


lame and grey

by sleeponrooftops



Series: raising webhead: a parenting guide, attempted by the science boyfriends [35]
Category: Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Incredible Hulk - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 04:20:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeponrooftops/pseuds/sleeponrooftops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter breaks the news to Tony about Santa, and then calls the Tower lame, so Tony has no choice but to flail about and embarrass him at every turn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	lame and grey

**Author's Note:**

> Notes —
> 
> i. Okay, I just—I need to forewarn you guys instead of putting this in the end note, I have absolutely no idea what transpired in this fic. The last time I wrote something this ridiculous was the Disney marathon fic, and I think even this tops that. Honestly. This fic is on crack, and it’s _awesome_.

_Two weeks later._

_December, 2020_

Bruce grunts when Peter throws himself against him, arms flopping around his front and head coming to rest on his shoulder.  “ _Dad_ ,” he whines loudly, and Bruce leans away from his head, frowning.

  
“Don’t do that,” he says, “You’re right next to my ear.”

 

“ _Dad_ ,” he whines louder, so Bruce sighs and shrugs him off, getting up from his chair and turning around.

 

“Stop it,” he says, though he’s fighting a laugh at the look on Peter’s face, “What’s up?”

 

“The Tower is _so lame_.”

 

Tony makes an unattractive squawking noise, and Bruce groans, palming his face.  “You really had to say that within earshot of him?” he mutters behind his hand, “I’m going to be hearing about that for _the next year_!” he adds in a shout, so Tony stands up abruptly, the very picture of offended.  “He’s coming over here now, I blame it entirely on you,” Bruce says, and Peter just slides from the chair onto the floor, limbs falling at awkward angles.

 

Tony comes over prepared to defend the Tower, takes one look at Peter, and looks up at Bruce.  “What is he doing?” he asks, bewildered.

 

“He’s _your_ son,” Bruce says, and Tony makes the most ridiculous face that Bruce almost falls over, he’s laughing so hard.

 

“Why is _no one_ concerned with the fact that it’s a week until Christmas and the Tower is _SO LAME_?” Peter yells, and that just makes Bruce laugh harder.

 

“Get up, you weirdo,” Tony mutters, hauling Peter to his feet, “Why is the Tower lame?  And, by the way, I’m taking extreme offense to that word, so I might just write to Santa and tell him not to bring you presents this year.”

  
“Oh my _god_ , dad,” Peter groans, “I know Santa Claus isn’t real.”

  
“ _What_?” Tony gasps, clutching his chest, “Santa isn’t _real_?  Bruce!”

 

“Tony, please,” Bruce chokes, grabbing for his chair and dropping down into it, leaning over the back as he holds his stomach, trying to quiet his laughter.

 

“You are _ruining_ my Christmas spirit!” Tony shrieks, stomping off, and Peter just looks between his dads in shock.

 

“Are you two drunk?” he asks finally, and Bruce looks up at him, still grinning but quiet, his face wet.

 

“I can’t even remember the last time I consumed alcohol, to be honest,” he says before wiping his face with his sleeve.  “Wait—how do you know what drunk people act like?”

 

Peter shrugs and says, “I mean, Wade’s had a few drinks before when we’re hanging out.”

 

“I’m sorry, what?” Tony says, head poking out from amongst his monitors.

 

Peter shrinks a little.  “Uh—yeah.  He gets them from Logan, whom I have definitely seen drunk before.”

 

“Okay,” Bruce says, straightening, “I think that’s enough of hanging out at Xavier’s until you’re older.”

 

“Dad!” Peter exclaims, looking at him in shock, “You can’t just _do_ that!”

 

“Uh, we can, actually,” Tony says, coming over, “We _are_ your parents.”

 

“This is so stupid,” Peter grumbles, crossing his arms and refusing to look at them.

 

“Listen, I’m not saying you can’t hang out with Wade, you just have to do it somewhere else.  He’s too old for you guys to be hanging out with, anyway, I don’t get it,” Bruce says, frowning.

 

“Wade’s my best friend, dad,” Peter says softly, kicking at the ground.  He’s quiet for a few moments before he looks up and asks, “Can he at least still come over here?”

 

“That’s fine.  He can hang out with you guys at Baxter Building, too.  I’d just rather you not be alone with him and Logan where you might be exposed to things you’re too young for.  Now, why is the Tower lame?  Tony, shut up.”

 

Tony sticks his tongue out at him, and Peter’s mouth pulls up in a small grin until Tony spots it and loops his arms around him, squeezing him.  “Is that a smile I see?” he says loudly, and Peter breaks out in a full grin, pushing at Tony.

 

“Dad, you’re such a doofus, go away.”

 

“Oh wow,” Tony says, releasing him, “Bruce.  Bruce, did you know I’m a _doofus_?”

 

“I thought you were a billionaire,” Bruce says, and Tony huffs loudly, putting on his most offended expression.  Peter looks over at him, fighting back laughter, but then Bruce is shaking his head and saying, “Seriously, Peter, he’s only your father, I’m actually _married_ to him, I _chose_ to love him.”

 

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Peter says, so Tony grabs him before he can leave, tickling him mercilessly until Peter is on the floor, clutching his sides as he giggles.

 

“I think you broke him,” Bruce says, and Tony walks away cackling.

 

They end up spending the rest of the day in the lab, but, the next morning is Saturday, and Peter is waking them bright and early, snuggling up between them as Tony groans about sleep.  “We’re getting Christmas decorations today, or I’m going to put hair dye in your shampoo, and you won’t know when or what color.”

 

“That’s a pretty serious threat,” Bruce says, reaching over to tug on Tony’s ear, “Someday, maybe your dad will accept he’s going grey.”

 

“I am _not_ going grey,” Tony mutters into his pillow.

 

Bruce snorts, patting the back of his head, “Yes, dear, whatever you say.  Personally, I’m just gonna let it go all grey, see what happens.”

 

“How old are you, dad?” Peter asks, looking over at Tony, who groans loudly, and Bruce laughs softly, rolling onto his side and propping himself up on an elbow.

 

“No way,” Peter says, grinning, “Are you older than dad?”

 

“By three years,” Bruce says, “Do you remember how old I am?”

 

“No,” Peter says sheepishly, hiding his face in the pillows.

 

“Forty-two.”

 

“You’re _forty-five_?” Peter exclaims, looking over at Tony in shock, “You’re almost half dead already!”

 

Tony makes a ridiculous noise and picks his head up, giving Peter his saddest look.  “That’s mean,” he says, pouting.

 

“Well,” Peter says, shrugging, and Tony pushes him until he collides with Bruce.  He starts grumbling as he gets out of bed, and Peter just laughs, following him and running out to his room to get dressed.

 

“Half dead,” Tony mutters when Bruce comes up behind him and wraps his arms around his waist, kissing the back of his neck.

 

“I think—” Bruce begins, mapping the line of his neck down to his shoulder with his mouth, “—that you should just let your hair go grey.  I think it might actually be a turn-on for me.”

 

“What, if I look old?” Tony says, leaning his head back as Bruce continues, hands drifting down over his stomach to the waistband of his sweats.

 

“I think you’d look rather handsome with a little grey.  We could be old farts together.”

 

Tony laughs softly, breathlessly, shifting in Bruce’s hands, but Bruce just bites his jaw and says, “Shower,” and Tony groans, turning and kissing him hard before he tugs him away.

 

“Oh my _god_ ,” Peter whines forty-five minutes later, slapping his feet loudly as he comes into the bathroom, “Seriously, I’m starving, and the Tower is lame.”

 

Tony pulls back the door, poking his head out, “If you call my Tower lame one more time, I’m making you sleep on the roof.”

 

“That would be cool,” Peter counters with, and then he frowns, his nose scrunching up.  “Gross, are you both in there?” he shrieks, running back out of the bathroom, and Bruce starts laughing from inside the shower, pulling Tony back inside.  They finish up, dress, and go to make breakfast while Peter hides in his room, shouting about how they’ve scarred him for life when Tony knocks on his door.

 

“Don’t be such a drama queen,” he says, opening the door, “How do you think you were made?”

 

Peter looks at him with wide eyes, mouth dropped open.  “ _Dad_!”

 

“Tony, stop it!” Bruce calls down the hall, though there’s amusement in his voice.

 

Tony leans against the doorway, smirking.  “Your parents got all canoodly, and then _pop_ , there’s Peter.”

 

“You’re disgusting.”

 

“Someday, little man,” he says with a wink before heading away from his room, and Peter understands his meaning a few seconds later, making obnoxious noises.

 

“Stop it,” Bruce says, pointing a finger at him as he spots Tony, “He’s never going to come out of his room again.”

 

“Lucky I’m hungry,” Peter grumbles, glaring at each of them in turn, and that lasts barely five minutes because Tony keeps throwing hash browns at him, so he gives in eventually and starts laughing, throwing them back.  Bruce threatens both of them with the roof, so then they’re just making little noises and being huffy, so Bruce starts throwing hash browns.

 

When they finally manage to get into the garage, Peter’s forgotten about the shower, and Tony tosses Bruce the keys, saying, “ _Lame_.”

 

“You are so going to regret this,” Bruce says to Peter, who whines when Tony pulls out a tablet.

 

“You’re so obnoxious,” Peter groans, and Tony just grins and nods.

 

“Where do you think you got it from?  _Lame_.”

 

And so, in between shopping for decorations for the floor, Tony works with Jarvis, setting up a program for the outside of the Tower, and, when they finally get back home, it’s lit up with a shimmering blue glow.  “Woah,” Peter says, opening his window and leaning out to get a better look as they drive toward it.  Dusk has settled around them, making it shine even brighter, and Tony puts away his tablet, smiling.  “Alright,” Peter says when they get in the garage, “The Tower isn’t lame.”

 

“Oh?” Tony says, getting out of the car, “I’m sorry, what—what was that, lamest child on the planet?”

 

Peter gives him a shove, grinning, so Tony just loops an arm around his shoulders and pulls him close.  “Dork,” Peter grumbles.

 

“Not lame,” Tony says in response, kissing his mess of hair before going over to help Bruce with the bags.  Peter starts making noise again when Tony hooks two fingers in Bruce’s belt loops and pulls him close, kissing him softly.  When they part, Bruce is laughing, and Tony drops his head to his shoulder, turning so he can kiss his neck.  Peter just sits down and turns his back to them, muttering about how weird and gross they are, so they consider it a good day.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea where this fic came from. Honestly, what the hell. It was _a lot_ of fun to write, though. Also, there’s a three year time-jump next fic, so pay attention. Don’t forget to leave your thoughts!


End file.
